Labyrinth: Stranded The Series (bxb)

Escape - Part 1

(Dillon's POV) 

I wake up slowly, like I'm dragging myself out of a deep, dark hole. My head's pounding, my muscles aching in ways I didn't even know were possible. For a second, I'm not sure where I am—everything's a blur, like I've been ripped out of a nightmare. Then, it hits me. The labyrinth. The fog. The creatures. Joshua.

I sit up too fast, my head spinning, and I wince as a sharp pain shoots through my side. I glance around, my heart pounding, and I see them—what's left of us. Six students, scattered across the ground, barely moving. Matt is there, his face pale and bruised. Aaron, one of my frat brothers, is hunched over, clutching his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. Kim is crying, her hands shaking, her whole body trembling like she can't believe she's still alive.

But it's the emptiness that hits me the hardest. We were a group of over twenty when we started this nightmare. Now, there's just six of us. The rest... I don't even want to think about what happened to them.

I glance at Joshua. He's unconscious, lying on his back, his face bruised and scraped, but he's breathing. That's the only thing keeping me from losing it. He's alive. Barely, but alive.

My hands shake as I fumble for my phone, my fingers numb as I dial 911. The operator answers, but I can barely get the words out.

"We... we need help," I manage to say, my voice hoarse. "We're hurt. There's... only six of us left."

The operator says something about sending ambulances, about staying calm, but I'm not hearing her anymore. I can't stop staring at the others, at the broken, terrified looks on their faces. We survived. But for what? We escaped the labyrinth, but we didn't make it out whole. None of us did.

I hang up, my hands still trembling. The others are silent, too stunned, too traumatized to speak. The fog has lifted, the sky above us a dull, overcast gray, but it feels like we're still trapped, like the nightmare hasn't really ended.

It's not long before we hear sirens in the distance, growing louder, closer. The police and medical teams arrive in a blur of flashing lights and shouting voices, and I can barely keep up with what's happening. They're asking us questions, too many questions, but none of us are ready to answer. How the hell do we explain what happened? How do we tell them that the labyrinth wasn't just a place, that it was alive, that it was feeding off us?

They won't believe us.

I glance at Joshua as a paramedic kneels beside him, checking his vitals. He's still out cold, his breathing shallow but steady. I don't know what to say. He's been through hell, just like the rest of us, but something about the way he fought, the way he survived—it's different. He's different.

A voice snaps me back to reality, and I realize one of the cops is standing in front of me, his face hard and impatient.

"What happened out here?" he asks, his voice sharp. "Where have you been?"

I blink, my mind racing, trying to come up with something—anything—that won't make us sound insane. Because the truth? The truth will get us locked up. No one's going to believe that we were trapped in a labyrinth with creatures that fed on our fear.

"We got lost," I say, my voice barely steady. "In the mist. We couldn't find our way out."

The cop narrows his eyes, clearly not buying it. "You've been missing for four months," he says, his tone skeptical. "People don't just get lost for four months."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Four months? No. That can't be right. It felt like days—maybe a week at most—but four months? That's impossible. I glance at the others, and from the looks on their faces, they're just as shocked as I am.

Matt speaks up, his voice shaky. "We... we don't remember it being that long. It felt like... like we were only gone for a few days."

The cop looks at us like we're crazy, and maybe we are. Maybe the labyrinth messed with our heads, twisted time, made us lose track of reality. But that doesn't change the fact that we survived something no one else will ever understand.

More cops are talking to the others, and I can hear bits and pieces of their questions.

"Where are the others?"
"How did you get out?"
"What happened out there?"

I can't answer any of it. I don't know how we got out. I don't know why we're still here when so many of our friends aren't. All I know is that we survived, but we'll never be the same.

The media swarms us, reporters shoving microphones in our faces, cameras flashing, the headlines already forming in their minds.

"Students Missing for Four Months Found Alive."
"Bizarre Disappearance in Fog Leaves Six Traumatized."

They're going to spin this into some sensational story, but they'll never know the truth. No one will. Not really.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my parents. My dad's suit is rumpled, his face pale and drawn, and my mom looks like she's been crying for hours. They rush toward me, pulling me into a tight embrace, and for the first time in months—months I didn't even know had passed—I feel like I'm safe. But even in their arms, there's a part of me that's still stuck in that labyrinth, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Samantha is there too, standing a few feet away, her face pale and tear-streaked. She doesn't rush to hug me like my parents did. She just stands there, staring at me, like she doesn't know who I am anymore. And maybe she doesn't. Maybe I don't either.

But as I look around, I notice something that makes my stomach drop.

No one's here for Joshua.

Not a single person.

I want to be surprised, but I'm not. I remember the things he told me, about his family, about how he's always been invisible to them. And now, after everything he's been through, he's still alone.

I walk over to him, kneeling beside the paramedics who are strapping him to a stretcher. His eyes flutter open for a moment, and he looks at me, dazed, confused.

"Dillon..." he whispers, his voice weak.

"I'm here," I say, my voice steady, even though I feel like I'm falling apart inside. "You're okay. We're going to be okay."

He gives me a faint smile before his eyes close again, his body going limp as the paramedics lift him onto the stretcher and load him into the ambulance. I stand there, watching as the doors close behind him, and a part of me wants to follow, to make sure he's really okay. But I can't. Not yet.

The cops are still asking questions, but I can't focus on any of it. All I can think about is the fact that we made it out. But we're not whole. We're broken, all of us, and no amount of medical attention is going to fix that.

The police are blocking off the road, the shortcut that led us into the labyrinth in the first place. They're saying something about wild animals, about the dangers of the mist, but none of it matters. They don't believe us. They'll never believe what really happened.

We're taken to the hospital, and the world outside seems so far away now, so distant. The doctors and nurses poke and prod, asking us more questions, but the answers don't come. How do we explain that we weren't just lost? That we were trapped in a living nightmare? That we watched our friends die?

We survived. But we're not the same.

And I don't know if we ever will be.